


Anchor

by Blackstarsabove



Category: The Last Kingdom (TV), The Warrior Chronicles | The Saxon Stories - Bernard Cornwell, Vikings (TV)
Genre: Crossover Pairings, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-14
Updated: 2021-01-30
Packaged: 2021-03-18 10:41:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28741941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blackstarsabove/pseuds/Blackstarsabove
Summary: Ivar receives a gift from Kjartan the Cruel. Turns out it was worth more than he could've imagined.
Relationships: Sihtric (The Last Kingdom)/ Ivar (Vikings)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 18





	1. Chapter 1

Ivar sighed deeply, rubbing his eyes as he fought to keep them open.  
The battle of York had been a full success but now that the rush of the fight was slowly leaving his body, he was starting to feel a bone deep exhaustion.  
The flickering candlelight paired with the lack of other light sources in this stone house of the Christian coward God wasn't really helping his condition either.  
But now finally it seemed as though everything that had needed his immidiate attention had been settled, which meant that he'd be able to retire to the quarters he'd claimed as his own soon. 

But just as he was about to slip off the chair he had been sitting on, the door opened, revealing one of his guards leading a man by a rope.  
Ivar halted in his movement, instead adjusting his position so he would be sitting more comfortably.  
"What is the meaning of this?"  
"A gift from Kjartan the Cruel, Lord of Dunholm", the guard explained, pushing the man forward.  
"He wishes to form an allegiance." 

Ivar let his eyes scan over his body. He seemed strong, like a warrior and his dark brown hair was in three neat plaits on top of his head, which was also common for a warrior, but his bound hands suggested differently.  
"A slave?"  
The guard nodded, then left when Ivar signaled him to.  
He inspected him once more. The man was clearly viking, probably a Dane from Northumbria though he had never heard of Dunholm.  
Ivar found it rather strange that a man like this would be gifted as a slave, that a man like this would be a slave at all, but he saved that question for now. 

He had to admit that the Dane looked good even with his pale skin covered in a layer of dirt. He had sharp features and intelligent eyes though they were clouded by uncertainty. 

"Come closer", the Norse called out, leaning back in his seat as the slave obeyed his command.  
"On your knees."  
He did so without hesitation, lowering his head in submission. 

"You look like a warrior but you act like a slave, so what are you really? Speak the truth"  
"I am whatever you want me to be, lord", the slave answered, not daring to look up.  
He was trembling slightly but Ivar found that he could not tell whether he was afraid or simply exhausted. 

"Do you know who I am?", the Ragnarsson asked, keeping his gaze fixed on the Dane.  
The latter looked up, surprise flashing across his sharp features but once his eyes met Ivar's, he quickly lowered his head again.  
"Of course. You are Ivar. Ivar the Boneless, son of Ragnar Lothbrok. "  
"And who are you?"  
"I'm called Sihtric, lord. But I can be whoever you want me to be. Please, I just wish to serve you." 

Ivar thought for a while.  
Sihtric could be useful to him. He looked strong enough to carry him even now when he was exhausted from the journey and had clearly been mistreated recently.  
But he wouldn't blindly trust a stranger whom he knew so little about. Besides he'd have to see the Dane's abilities first. 

"I shall give you a chance to prove yourself", Ivar decided, waving one of the guards over.  
"Don't disappoint me." 

Days passed after that and Ivar forgot about the slave. There was always much on his mind, much to plan and even more to consider.  
He could sense his brothers' growing wariness of him and even though he liked to pretend it didn't faze him it still weighed heavy on his shoulders.  
Just as Sigurd's death did.  
He had not intended for it to happen and even then somehow he had still expected Ubba to understand. 

But that was nit something he could dwell on. A Saxon army was moving towards them and they would have to prepare to meet them. Ivar did his best to oversee the work but walking with his new braces was still difficult and tiring.  
That was also where he met the slave again.  
He looked stronger now, rested and Ivarr could feel a twinge of jealousy as he watched him set up one of the gates but that was something he was used to.  
When his legs would ache despite their uselessness he would often feel envy.  
He was envious of his brothers when they had chased after one another as young boys.  
He was envious of their warriors, fighting to earn their place in Odins hall.  
And now he was envious of slaves. There were days when he'd prefer their fate to his own. At least they had a hope he would never have.  
Their situation might improve one day. Maybe they'd be set free whereas Ivar would never be free of his legs. He'd always have to live with the agony they caused him, mentally and physically. 

The next time Ivarr caught sight of the Dane, it was in the streets of York once more.  
Ivar was laughing and screaming, drenched in blood as he sat on the floor in front of his fallen chariot. He was facing the Saxons without fear, without a single doubt in his mind. 

He knew that Ubbe, who had just arrived at the scene, was holding back their warriors on purpose, perhaps trying to increase the chance of Ivar's demise without neglecting his brotherly duties.  
But Sihtric, without hesitation, came to stand in front of Ivar, shield and axe raised. 

When the chaos took over, Ivar allowed himself a moment of amazement, wide blue eyes fixated on the Dane who stayed close to him through it all.  
He was a great fighter, Ivar had been right. Much worthier than any of the oafs serving in his personal bodyguard.  
He was agile, able to predict his enemy's next moves more often than not. There was still some clumsiness here and there but nothing that more practice wouldn't fix. The Dane had potential. 

When the battle was over, the young Dane was the first by his side.  
Blood coated his pale face, enhancing the different shades of his eyes, one a greenish blue like the sea, the other brown like the earth.  
Ivar had to have been staring because the Dane cast his gaze to the ground again.  
"Are you alright, lord?", he asked, moving aside when Ivarr's bodyguard arrived.  
"Leave", Ivar told them, waving them off without taking his eyes off Sihtric.  
"Why did you send them away?"  
"Because none of them would have done what you just did", Ivarr replied matter-of-factly, turning his head when he saw Ubbe approach them from out of the corner of his eye. 

His older brother wasted no time, pushing the slave hard before pointing one accusing finger at him like he often did.  
"You disobeyed my orders!"  
Ivar could see the remaining color leaving Sihtric's face as he stumbled back, taking a few steps away from the older Ragnarsson.  
"What is it Ubbe? Are you mad that he did not leave me to die the way you had planned to?"  
Ubbe's anger faded quickly, replaced by that underlying guilt that Ivar had grown so used to. 

"Do you think I would have let you die? My brother, my own flesh and blood?"  
Ivar shrugged.  
"You hesitated. He didn't."  
Then he pushed himself off the chariot, crawling towards his chambers with a still rather pale looking Dane trailing behind him hesitantly.


	2. Chapter 2

The sun was burning down on Sihtric as he walked through the streets of York on this unusually warm summer afternoon.   
It must've been two moons already since he had first been brought here as a slave but he found that it was hard to tell. The days had simply started blurring together a while ago.  
But that didn't mean they were dull. Quite the opposite actually.   
There was always something to do. Helping with the defences or the rebuilding that had started after the Saxon's attack.

He remembered that day we'll and he had no doubt that that would be the case until the day he died. Because that day the fates had smiled upon him and changed his life for the better.

He tilted his head in greeting when one of the passing warriors did the same.  
He had been a slave all of his life. It mastered not that he was Kjartan's son, all that they cared about was that his mother had been a slave and Christian on top of that.  
Sihtric had grown used to being mistreated, had learned to ignore the hurtful words thrown his way and had stopped fighting back when someone wished to express their anger in a more physical way.

But now he was admired for his courage, warriors praised his fighting skills and he had not been drinking alone even once since the second battle of York.

He was no longer a slave, no. Now he was a part of Ivar's bodyguard, a free man, a warrior.

"Careful. Ivar seems a little on edge today", Erik, another one of Ivar's bodyguards, advised as he passed him on the way to the church, "a fight with his brother, Ubbe. I was almost sure he would try to kill him"  
Sihtric nodded his head, still sometimes forgetting that using words to answer might be more appropriate for his new position. But he'd get used to it in time.

The Dane found himself walking faster after that.  
He barely knew Ivar as a Ragnarsson, much less as a man, but he had freed him and even before that he had treated him well, better than his own father had for sure.  
He was still ready to give his life for the Norse any day and he'd do anything in his power to protect him. If not out of loyalty then out of admiration.

Finally he reached the church, slowing down when he saw the guards posted at the door. But they just gestured for him to go on, offering him a slight nod.  
Hesitantly he stepped past the threshold, looking around the building only to find it empty.

Since they had taken York and settled in, Sihtric had not seen this building empty.   
They had turned it into an ale house really. The benches were always full with drunk Dane's and Norse, filled with laughter and a usually rather sad attempt at singing. Now however it felt much as it had the time they had first arrived: cold and empty.  
He had always wondered how the Christians could worship in places like these.

It took the young Dane a while to notice Ivar, who was sitting in his chair by the altar, toying with one of his throwing knives.  
Sihtric shuddered, reminded once more of the day he had first arrived here in York after a long and needlessly cruel journey.  
He had not known what the fates had in store for him that day.   
"Sihtric! There you are!", Ivar greeted him, clapping his hands once, "come, come", he added, gesturing for him to step closer.   
He obliged, lowering his head out of reflex.   
"I have something for you", the Ragnarsson announced, pointing towards one of the benches.   
Sihtric walked over slowly, unsure what to expect.   
"Go on, pick it up", Ivar urged, leaning forward in his seat.   
And as always Sihtric obeyed, carefully inspecting the armor.   
"Is it- is it for me?", Sihtric asked, unwilling to get his hopes up.  
"No. Clearly it is for me because one armor isn't enough", the Norse chuckled when Sihtric actually put it back down and stepped away, a borderline scared expression on his face. 

"I was only joking. I noticed that you didn't have your own armor so I had one made for you."   
"Thank you, lord", Sihtric smiled genuinely, unsure of what to say.   
"There is no need to thank me. You earned it and I trust that you will continue to do so."   
"Of course, lord."   
"The mood will soon tip... Ubbe wishes to make peace with the Saxons but I do not believe that is the right call." 

Sihtric nodded.   
He couldn't begin to imagine what would happen if the brothers really did turn on each other. From what he had heard most wished to stay and fight, only few considered claiming and farming the land they had been promised by the late king.   
When Ivar just looked at him expectantly Sihtric noticed that he should give some form of answer.   
"Your axe is mine whatever happens. I swear, lord." 

Ivar seemed pleased with that response.   
"Walk with me, will you? It is awfully warm today." 

Soon after they had left the town behind themselves, walking instead through a small forest nearby. Sihtric was carrying Ivar now, seeing as the terrain was too difficult to use his crutch.   
Sihtric had been scared to death at first, fearing that he would hurt Ivar if he wasn't careful but he could not deny his lord either and thankfully in the end all had been well. 

"You don't speak much do you?", Ivar asked, breaking the silence that had settled over them.   
"No one ever cared to listen so I learned that instead."   
"Good, good... That could be useful going forward. Let's go there", Ivar added the last part, pointing at a small pond in the shade of the trees. 

"What do you think of my brother, Ubbe? Will he betray me?"   
"I don't know him well enough to say that for sure.. But there is talk in the town that he intends to speak to the Saxons about a treaty soon."   
Ivar hummed and then for a while the birds chirping in the trees above was the only sound that filled the air. 

"Can I ask you a question, lord?", Sihtric spoke up, breaking the silence.   
Ivar merely nodded for him to go ahead.   
"Why did you free me?"   
"Why would I not?", Ivar asked, his brows furrowed in confusion, "I have no need for any more common slaves and you are a capable enough fighter. A valuable addition to my bodyguard." 

Deep down Ivar knew that there was a different reason, one that he did not dare say out loud because it was probably nothing but his mind seeing things where there was nothing there. Still the thought that maybe he could mean something to this Dane did not leave his mind. 

After Sigurd's death he had fallen out with his brothers. They did not speak often and when they did there was always this tension where once there had been some form of brotherly love.   
Perhaps all he wanted from Sihtric was some form of love. 

Whether that was merely friendship or something else he did not dare think about. Not when there was so much else that needed his attention.


	3. Chapter 3

"Your brother Ubbe, I heard him talk to Hvitserk about riding to the Saxon camp tonight with a few of your warriors. "  
Sihtric looked up at him expectantly, his mismatched eyes now rimmed with dark coal. The armor suited him well too, Ivar mused, admiring the fur-lined straps of dark leather criss-crossing over the Dane's torso.  
"Lord? Do you wish me to go after them?"  
The uncertainty in his voice suggested that Sihtric had asked this question before but Ivar had seemingly been too distracted by the sight of the Dane to notice.  
"No... Let them go. Maybe the Saxons will show them that I am right." 

Sihtric nodded, moving to return to his position by the entrance when Ivarr stopped him briefly with a wave of his hand.   
"I'd like you to stay close at least for some time."   
The Dane nodded again then turned on his heels and left. 

Ivar looked after him until he had disappeared around the corner, taking note of the way he held himself now.   
His new rank had no doubt given Sihtric confidence but unlike some of the other members of his bodyguard his confidence did not exceed his skill. According to some of the spies he had asked to keep an eye on him the first few weeks, he trained every morning, from sunup until his shift and then, if there was any time left, he'd continue until past sundown. 

Recently Ivar had watched him train, wanting to get an idea of his overall skill and he had been impressed to say the least.   
The Dane was agile yet strong, fighting intelligently but somehow still without hesitating for too long.   
It was truly impressive.   
His weapons of choice were an axe and a shield but Ivar had noticed that he was also showing potential at dual wielding axes. Perhaps he should get him a pair made.   
Seeing as he had never been able to fight to the same capacity as his brothers or peers, Ivar had taken to watching them, analysing their moves and finding weaknesses that he could use to balance out his disadvantage should the need arise.   
With Sihtric however he was sure of his loyalty and so when he watched him fight he did so solely to entertain himself.   
The Dans was the best fighter he had in his bodyguard, not the strongest physically but the most balanced.   
He'd like to see him in an actual fight again. 

But not only Sihtric's fighting style had caught his interest.   
Ivar found that he did quite enjoy watching the Dane just to pass time. Sometimes he'd spot him across the room, laughing with other members of his bodyguard or he'd see him sneak around to gather information to bring back to him.   
Sitting here in York, waiting for something to happen, it was tiring and Sihtric was refreshing not only that but he also happened to be good company as well.   
His brothers still avoided Ivar and the rest of his bodyguard were annoyingly dull, so he had taken to spending more time with the Dane.   
He had taught him Tafl, the game he had learned in Winchester and in turn Sihtric had taught him about seiðr.   
He had been hesitant at first, mismatched eyes darting around the room nervously. The fear of being considered unmanly and losing the status he had just earned had been ever present. But when Ivar asked he still told him about everything he had learned in Dunholm and soon they would slip into more basic talks of their gods. 

With Sihtric, Ivar never feared to say what was on his mind. There was just something so trustworthy about him. Maybe it was the loyalty in his eyes or the calm silence, the true interest in what Ivar was saying. The Dane never reacted harshly, just gently inclined his head here and there to show that he was being attentive.   
Ivar just found himself seeking the Dane's company more and more often. 

As the night progressed Sihtric found himself sitting on what had once been an altar for the Christian god, Ivar seated in his chair next to him. They were talking while Sihtric was whitling a figure to replace the one they had lost during one of their games.   
A very calm feeling settled inside Sihtric. Dozens of candles illuminated the building and the few remaining people kept it filled with chatter and the occasional sound of rolling dice.   
It wasn't overwhelmingly loud, just a background noise, almost melting in with the silence.   
"What do you think will happen?", Sihtric asked, not bothering to look up from his work.   
"There will be no deal."   
"How can you be so sure?"   
"That man I saw on the battlefield... He carried himself like a leader."   
"They say he's a bishop", Sihtric started, glancing up to see Ivar's reaction. If he wasn't entirely mistaken there was some admiration in his voice.   
"Can you find out more about him?"   
"I can try, lord."   
Ivar hummed, leaning back in his chair.   
Sihtric could feel his eyes on him, shifting his weight a little.   
He didn't like being watched, it had never led to anything good his life.   
He had become more confident to match his new position but sometimes he could feel the memories creeping back into his mind, filling it with childlike fear.   
Sihtric didn't even notice he had started shaking until his knife slipped, the burning sensation of the blade cutting into his skin causing him to hiss.   
"Don't be afraid. I am just watching, nothing else", Ivar mumbled, an unfamiliar gentleness in his blue eyes as he wrapped the cut with a piece of fabric that had previously been wrapped around his hand to make walking with his crutch more comfortable.  
Sihtric just nodded, unable to take his eyes off Ivar's. 

By morning Sihtric had all but forgotten about the incident, standing next to Ivar with a half empty cup of ale in his hand. The building was starting to fill up again, warriors taking their places on the benches as they got ready for a new day. 

Neither Ivar nor Sihtric had gotten any sleep that night, instead awaiting the return of the elder Ragnarssons.   
The Dane was looking rather tired now, yawning every so often. Ivar was about to send him off to bed when one of his spies arrived, announcing the return of his brothers.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not sure where I'm headed with this yet so the summary+ tags will be updated as we go.  
> As for the ship: I don't know where it came from but I wanted to try so... Let me know what you think I guess


End file.
